Question everything
by mindful happenings
Summary: "Do you see , my dear, the possibilities? Never not ask questions. Question everything you encounter in life. Even if you are not answered, the questions you create are proof of how you can stretch your mind." "With all due respect Director, I'm not sure why you want me for this postion I'm just a regular Agent." "Now we both know that isn't true Miss Prayden" Awful summary sorry!
1. Chapter 1

My grandfather used to tell me that the clouds we see in the sky were the underbellies of whales, that they only appeared to be fluffy wisps because they were so high up. But how were they whales? All the way up there? Don't they miss the ocean when they're up in the sky? I would frequently ask him such, but he would never answer me, only smile at me.

"Do you see ,my dear, the possibilities? Never not ask questions. Question everything you encounter in life. Even if you are not answered, the questions you create are proof of how you can stretch your mind."

That was all he would tell me. I often find myself thinking of his words. I often find myself thinking of him.

To my regret, however, I cannot grant him that. In my line of work it is beyond difficult to question anything, or even it is frowned upon to. Other agents seem content with this, liking it more to actually knowing the details. The phrase '_ignorance is bliss_' comes to mind more than a few times a week here. But I just can't hold in the questions, which has gotten me into more troubled than I'd have liked.

* * *

_"Agent Prayden_"

My head jerked slightly at the unexpected voice through the earpiece I'd forgotten that I was wearing, I immediately recognised Agent Hills voice though it wasn't often that I, being a lowly level 2 shield agent, heard it.

_"Ahem.. Yes Agent Hill?"_

_'Your attendance is required, meet me at the 3rd floor elevator now."_

_"Um right of course I'm on my way"_

My hand quickly fell from my ear as I hurriedly rounded all of the necessary kit I could need.  
Phone.  
Tracking transmitter.  
Car keys.  
Handgun.  
ID and bank card.  
Handgun? Would I really need that? A million scenarios ran through my head at a time all playing out in so many ridiculous possibilities. But all still possibilities. Better take the gun incase.  
Walking out of the office turned into a light jog down the corridor until I met the elevator, a small swarm of Agents piled in and out. Stairs it is. Luckily I was on the second floor.  
Breathing a little faster I worked round the corner to the 3rd floor elevator and there was Hill, punctual as usual, standing with an incredibly tall man. I cleared my throat loudly as I neared them.  
"Agent Hill"  
Nodding in greeting, Hill gestured for both I and the tall stranger to follow into the elevator. We did.  
"Uh hey any idea what this is about?" Hill was out of earshot as I whispered to the stranger.  
When he looked at me his hard, rather focused, expression soften slightly at my confusion, _'the eyes of a soldier' _I recognised instantly, in fact the everything of a soldier actually.

"I only know what I've been told."

"And that is?"

"To not ask questions."

Pfft well there goes that, suppressing a groan I gave a small nod at his answer-if you could even call it an answer- and steered my attention back to where we were headed.  
Holy shit balls, this was the fithteenth floor! This was where all the big guns worked, when they weren't in the field. This was the floor where the level 7 and 8 Agents worked, _level freaking 8.  
_Nick Fury also mainly worked on this level. Agent Hill. Nick Fury. Pretty much best buds, as far as bff's go at Shield. It clicked: we were going to see Fury.

Holy. Shit. Balls.


	2. Chapter 2

Stainless steel seats and large table dominated the conference room, folders and files scattered across surfaces with several figures littered around at individual desks. Hill stood by, speaking in hushed tones to another Agent; I sat awkwardly next to the stranger from the elevator. Maybe it was just my imagination but he seemed as uncomfortable as me. That was somewhat of a relief.

Somewhat.

The only sounds were the little tap tap taps of keys being pressed, the room was so bleak there wasn't even a clock to give the cliche ticking sounds that fill awkward silences. It's the kind of silence that means to be undisturbed. I'm pretty sure if I made one little noise I'd receive several irritated looks.

_Sniff._

_Sniff sniff._

Oh no, please no. My nose tickled. _Really_ tickled. Like a warm summers breeze had wafted through my sinuses and severely irked my nostrils. I'm going to sneeze, and not prettily.

With a quick sweep of my eyes over the room to see if anyone had noticed my suddenly rigid spine as I desperately tried to calm my now twitching face.

_Don't look directly at the lights._

_Hold your breath._

_Think un-sneezing thoughts._

It was useless, I was going to sneeze and _sweet jesus_ was it going to be embarrassing.

Pineapple! A friend from university once told me, one of those beyond ridiculous factoids, if you say pineapple before you sneeze then you don't sneeze.

...it's too quiet for me to say pineapple out loud.

Maybe if I say it in my head it would work? My eyes began to water. I've got to at least try.

_Pineapple,_

_Pineapple,_

_**Pineapple**_.

Oh god it wasn't working.

"Pineapple" with the softest whisper I could muster.

It worked, holy heck it worked! Congratulating myself with a mental pat on the back I glanced around just to check no one had heard me.

Blue eyes stared straight at me.

The word dumbfounded is most accurate to describe the way the stranger and I stared at each other. 'It felt like hours' does not do this awkwardness justice, it felt like _decades_.

I threw around the idea of explaining myself but dismissed it easily. To do so would only serve to further decrease my rapidly falling credibility.

Shield agents were supposed to be calm, collected, well put people. Stoic basically. And here I was: whispering pineapple to myself in a dead silent conference room. Just how loud had I actually said it? I didn't think it was anything above a whisper.

My mouth bobbed slightly with words forming and dying on my lips.

I was completely and utterly dumbfounded.

_Well I guess it can't get any worse_.

"It stops you from sneezing." came my meek voice.

He raised an eyebrow.

Oh wow.

That's worse, definitely worse.

"Saying pineapple before you sneeze it... It's supposed to stop it"

"Oh...right."

Still staring at each other.

Look away, look away, look away.

I wasn't sure who I was willing, him or me. Didn't matter really. Either would have been a relief.

Nope.

Still maintaining that eye contact.

"I'm Steve by the way. Steve Rogers, we uh...we haven't been properly introduced"

The uncertainty was evident in his tone. Was he nervous of me? He was easily a foot- heck maybe even two feet- taller than me.

Wait a minute. Rogers. Why does that sound familiar? University came to mind. _I didn't know anyone at uni with that name. Did I?_ What was my history professors name again? Was it Rogers? No it was Baylis- something.

Oh damn, I hadn't replied.

"Juno Prayden"

"Well its uh good to meet you ma'am"

Ma'am?

What? Did people still say that? Gosh I hadn't heard anyone say ma'am since I last saw my grandparents and that's just because of the era they grew up in.

The door to the conference room slid open with the compulsory little _swoosh_ noise.

And there he stood.

_Ooh looks like he's dressed up for the occasion in his finest... black gear._

Nick Fury.


End file.
